Moments Together
by Cielita
Summary: Amusing anecdotes from our favorite couple from Grindlewald's defeat on.
1. Confessions

Moments Together 1. Confessions  
  
Minerva McGonagall was worried sick. Albus Dumbledore, the love of her life had left to confront Grindelwald months ago. They'd been exchanging owls ever since she'd finished at Hogwarts seven years ago and had become fast friends. She'd gone into Auror training right away and had finished with top marks, especially in Defense. That had been her best subject in school, after Transfiguration. Because her Transfiguration marks had been so good, she'd been recommended for additional training to become an Animagi. She'd agreed right away, having wanted to attempt the transformation since Albus had turned into a wolf, a sleek, handsome white wolf with piercing blue eyes. It had frightened some of the students, but Minerva had been fascinated from the start. It had taken her a good two years to succeed, and that had been with Albus' help. Now, two years later, he'd been gone for six months, tracking down Grindelwald with only sporadic owls to let her know he was still alive. She'd done her part, of course. Going on assignment with other aurors, sometimes with Alastor Moody, sometimes with someone else. She never went on an assignment alone. No one did, except Albus, and that was mainly because he wasn't an Auror. He was a wizard with an overblown hero complex. Just because he was one of the most powerful wizards to be seen in ages didn't mean he had to go and seek out a cause to fight. He could have remained at Hogwarts, content to teach and pass on his knowledge to future generations of witches and wizards. No, he had to take a sabbatical to go and seek out Grindelwald. "Min? Hello?"  
  
"Don't call me Min," she answered automatically, dragging herself from her thoughts and focusing on the person in front of her desk. "Oh, hello, Alastor."  
  
He smiled, sitting down in the chair facing her desk. "Where were you?"  
  
"Right here, of course," she answered acerbically. "Where else would I be?"  
  
He snorted. "Physically, you may have been here, but your mind wasn't."  
  
"Is there a purpose to this visit, Alastor?" she asked acidly. "Or do you only wish to annoy me?"  
  
He shrugged. "It's quitting time. Did you want to go get something to eat?"  
  
"No, thank you, Alastor." She smiled slightly at him.  
  
He returned the smile and stood up. "It's all right. Maybe some other time?"  
  
"Maybe," she answered noncommittally. "Perhaps you should try asking Poppy? She usually finishes her shift at St. Mungo's about this time."  
  
His cheeks turned faintly rosy. "Maybe I will. Thanks for the suggestion."  
  
"You're welcome." It was useless. He'd already left. Shaking her head, she finished packing up for the night and left the Ministry, walking to her small flat nearby rather than apparating to it. She needed the fresh air to help clear her head.  
  
Upon reaching her flat, she disarmed the wards protecting it and entered with a sigh. The thing that hurt most about Albus being gone was that she missed him so much. Though she hadn't seen much of him after she'd finished her Animagus training, knowing where he was had been a comfort. Now that she had no idea where he was, it was as if there was a constant ache in her chest.  
Minerva dropped her cloak and bag in the front hall and bent to undo her high heeled buttoned shoes. After easing her tired feet out of these and into a pair of house slippers, Minerva walked across to the kitchen and sipped a glass of water. As she stood there, she released her hair from its constricting bun and sighed as it cascaded down her back. This accomplished, she slowly climbed the narrow stairs to her bedroom.  
She had expected this to provide her a little escape from the thoughts that were pulsing in her head but it didn't. She had been trying so hard not to worry too much about Albus that everything around her conjured a thought of him. The picture of the two of them on her graduation day, her chess set, the glittering cat collar he had bought for her when she learned to transform into her Animagus form. Minerva walked into her bathroom and stood before the mirror. If she looked hard enough, she could see him standing there behind her, his blue eyes shining. His hands would come to rest on her upper arms and she would turn her head to smile at him. Softly, he would plant a kiss on the top of her head and Minerva would sigh, almost purr, in contentment. One of his hands would quest down around her whisper of a waist and he would pull her back against him as his face turned down to—  
Minerva caught herself dreaming and shook herself free of the reverie. Wearily, she bathed, donned her nightgown and crept gingerly into the bed, as if she were trying not to disturb the quietness in the room. The heat coming from the register near her window ruffled the curtains a bit as Minerva's head sank into the pillow and she drifted off to sleep. Her last thoughts before sleep claimed her senses were of trying to convince herself that there was nothing to be afraid of. This was a trick that Albus had taught her. When she had come to Hogwarts, little Minerva McGonagall had come from a home that was not safe. She confided in Dumbledore that she was tardy for class oftentimes because she could not sleep due to the fear that her father could somehow find her and make good on his screaming fits. Albus had comforted her and reminded her once again that she was safe. Sometimes, as a wolf, he had come up and slept at the foot of Minerva's bed in Gryffindor Tower. Her classmates thought it was bizarre that a wolf should befriend introverted, soft-spoken Minerva, but they accepted it. For the next seven years, Minerva had a protector and for those seven years, she felt safe at school. Her father died when she was a fifth year, but old fears die hard, and she still awoke frightened in the night, afraid perhaps that her father's malevolent spirit had returned to claim her. Now, her protector was gone and if the fates are cruel, he might never come back.  
  
Albus Dumbledore was exhausted and injured. Grindelwald had been defeated. He would never threaten innocents again. As he slowly and painfully made his way from the battlefield, Albus' thoughts immediately turned to Minerva McGonagall. Lovely, stubborn, fiery Minerva McGonagall. She of the raven hair and deep green eyes, she with the quick wit, keen intelligence, and melodious laugh, his reason for pushing forward and continuing on. If not for her, he would have gone through life ignorant of the joys of love. Now he knew, but he dare not experience it to the fullest. What would she think, after all, of a man eighty years her senior being in love with her? She wouldn't run, oh no. It was not in her nature to run, but she would most likely be disgusted and end their friendship. He could not bear to lose even that and had consequently kept his silence. He'd enjoyed the owls they'd exchanged and had regretted having to end the exchange because it was too dangerous. As he read her owls, he could almost hear her voice in his head. He would re-read every owl she'd sent him at night before going to sleep, because it was almost like being back in England.  
  
He stumbled over a tree root, falling heavily to his knees with a grunt. Struggling to his feet, he continued onwards, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket to press to his broken nose. His love for Minerva had come about gradually, developing from the guardian-type relationship they had forged when she first confessed to him why she was sometimes tardy, then into a mentor-mentored relationship as the years passed, into a deep and abiding friendship, and finally into the love that had sustained him over the past six months. His body was almost beyond endurance, though. He thought longingly of England, of the gentle, rolling hills and picture-perfect snow. Christmas was but a few days away. He would be lucky if he made it out of the forest by then. He was too weak to even Apparate a foot. He stumbled again, the loss of his glasses in the fight just adding another difficulty on top of all the others so far. He wished only to go home. He longed to see Minerva once again: to see her face light up with joy over her Christmas present.  
  
Dizziness was rapidly overwhelming him when a beautiful arpeggio of notes broke the stillness. Looking around, confused, he could only stare at the scarlet and gold bird that flew down from a nearby tree. He automatically raised an arm and the bird landed on it, the claws of its feet digging in just enough to stabilize it. "I've read about your kind. You're a phoenix, aren't you?"  
  
Since the bird couldn't answer verbally, it rested its head on the gash on his forehead that had been steadily bleeding. Slowly, the dizziness abated and Albus regained his sense of equilibrium. He looked up at the phoenix in wonder. "Thank you, very much. I feel better already."  
  
The phoenix chirped a beautiful song that heartened him greatly, giving him the strength to continue on. With a flit of his wings, the phoenix moved to Albus' shoulder, occasionally chirruping a series of notes, usually when Albus felt his strength begin to wane. Finally, he felt himself pass through the Anti-Apparation wards that had surrounded the battlefield for meters. Another cluster of notes gave Albus the energy he needed to focus and Apparate.  
  
When Albus Dumbledore's feet touched the hardwood floors of a cool, quiet flat in London, his weak muscles collapsed beneath him, despite the swan- sized bird on his shoulder. His arms shook as he tried to pull himself up off the floor and failed, resting back on the floor.  
  
Upstairs, Minerva heard the pop of an apparition and the ensuing thud of something—or someone—falling to the floor of her front entry. She sprang from her bed, wand in hand and inched down the hall with her back flat against the wall and her heart pounding. She had been deeply asleep when the commotion occurred, and she didn't much like being awakened from her sleep. Her auror instincts kicked into over-drive when she heard what sounded like a bird coming from the bottom of the stairs, accompanied by the movement sounds of her possible attacker.  
  
When she arrived at the edge of the stairs, she carefully peered around the corner and looked down. At the foot of the stairs was a red and orange phoenix, trilling and cooing as if to call to Minerva to come down. She peered a bit further out and recognized the singed robes of the man lying on her floor.  
  
"Albus!" she cried, thudding down the stairs and dropping to her knees beside him. "Albus, say something!"  
  
"Sp...Speak again, Bright Angel, for I have so missed the sound of your voice!" Albus choked. Minerva pulled him into her arms and held him close. Her wand lay forgotten at her side and the phoenix simply stood and watched, appearing quite pleased with itself.  
  
"You're alive! If you willed it I could fly!" Minerva murmured, stroking his hair back from his face. All of this had slipped out before Minerva could put her carefully built wall against her emotions in place. Her feelings toward Albus Dumbledore had somehow changed between the end of her auror training and now. She wasn't sure how, but she knew now, as she sat on her cold floor and held him, that what she was feeling was more than just feelings of a student for a teacher. She was falling in love.  
  
When Albus awoke the next morning, he inhaled a scent he couldn't remember. It smelled of chamomile, lavender and woman. The bed clothes around him were creamy white, as were the draperies, and a tartan throw blanket was folded neatly at the end of the bed. It only took him a moment more to remember where he was. Beside him, sitting up and slightly slumped over in sleep, was Minerva. She must have tucked him into her own bed when she finished tending his wounds. His dislocated shoulder was healed, his bumps and bruises had been cooled by a special salve that had birch bark mixed in it for pain. He didn't try to move, for fear of waking Minerva, but as usual, she was already a step ahead of him.  
  
"You're awake," Minerva murmured. "I was wondering how long you'd sleep."  
  
"If left to my own devices, a week. I've lost enough sleep in the last six months to last me a lifetime," Albus murmured. He pulled his arm out from beneath the covers and reached to cover Minerva's hand with his own.  
  
"I owe you my life for what you did last night. I apologize that I seem to have put you out of a bed," Albus continued. Minerva stroked his hair again, absent-mindedly playing with the long strands.  
  
"Nonsense. Sleep as long as you wish. We can talk more when you're well," Minerva said, gingerly getting up off the bed and going to make herself presentable before going downstairs to make breakfast.  
  
When she arrived in the kitchen, she had to stand and take in everything that had happened in the past few hours. Poppy Pomfrey would be proud of her for nursing Albus back to health. She smiled a bit as another thought dawned on her: the man who had protected her all these years now needed protecting himself. It was strange to see him in such a vulnerable position, but for the time being, it was serving as Minerva's need to be needed, and she indulged it by cooking scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast and not burning a thing: a feat she had not accomplished in years. Humming a familiar tune, she carried a tray with both her plate and one for Albus on it up the stairs. Albus, who had spent his life serving others, would be the one served today.  
  
* * *  
  
Albus smiled when Minerva appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray of food. "Minerva, I was not aware that you cooked."  
  
She shrugged as she walked over and set the tray on the night table. "I do not, ordinarily."  
  
"What is the occasion, then?" he asked as she eased one of the plates from the tray and set it on the night table.  
  
She set the tray in his lap. "I will be taking care of you, Albus, until you are feeling better."  
  
"Minerva, there is no need for you to do so for my sake," he told her, capturing her hand before she could pull it away.  
  
Her cheeks turned pink as she looked away. "Nonsense, Albus. You have done much for me, I would like to repay that."  
  
"There is nothing to repay," he told her softly as she drew up a table in front of her chair beside the bed. She really was quite beautiful.  
  
She sighed and shook her head. "Please, Albus, do not argue. I will be taking care of you and there is nothing you can say or do that will change my mind."  
  
"Very well, Minerva," he reluctantly gave in. "I shan't object again."  
  
She smiled, patting his hand. "Thank you, Albus, now eat."  
  
"Yes, Mother," he teased softly, his eyes twinkling.  
  
She shook her head and calmly began to eat the breakfast in front of her. He followed suit.  
  
* * *  
  
Several days later, Minerva answered a knock on the door to find an unfamiliar man on the doorstep. "May I help you?"  
  
"Miss Minerva McGonagall?" the man asked, hazel eyes bright with curiosity.  
  
She nodded. "Yes, that would be me."  
  
"Conner Cleas with the _Daily Prophet_," he explained, introducing himself.  
  
She cautiously extended her hand. "Hello." He kissed the back of her hand, like a gentleman. "What brings you here Mr. Cleas?"  
  
"There's a rumor going around that Albus Dumbledore managed to defeat Grindelwald," Conner explained, running his hand through his tousled brown hair. "I know you were working with him on something before he left. Would you happen to know where he is?"  
  
Minerva debated her answer, not being particularly fond of reporters. Albus decided her answer for her when he appeared behind her. "Hello, who are you?"  
  
"Conner Cleas, Professor Dumbledore," the reporter replied, recovering quickly from his shock. "I wondered if I might interview you?"  
  
Albus glanced down at Minerva. She indicated that he answer for himself. "I do not have the time right now, Mr. Cleas. I promise that you shall have it, but not now."  
  
"Oh." He looked disappointed, but didn't push the issue. "May I have a statement at least? Regarding Grindelwald?"  
  
Albus' voice was sober when he answered. "Grindelwald died by my hand several weeks ago, Mr. Cleas. His shadow is gone from the wizarding world."  
  
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," Conner's smile lit up his face. "Good day to you. And you, Miss McGonagall."  
  
"Good day, Mr. Cleas," Minerva replied, closing the door behind him.  
  
She rested her forehead against the door. She wouldn't have Albus to herself for much longer. "Is something wrong, Minerva?"  
  
She turned to face him. "No, no, Albus. Just tired, I suppose." She frowned at him. "Where is your walking stick?"  
  
"My--" As she watched, his cheeks appeared to flush slightly. "Ah, yes, my walking stick."  
  
She raised an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest. "Albus, you are not to go anywhere without it."  
  
"I know." He looked absurdly like a repentant child, albeit a very old one with his beard and mustache.  
  
She sighed and relented. "I will let it go this once, but please, Albus, it is for your health that I insist."  
  
"I know, Minerva, but you must admit that it gets rather tiresome to carry that everywhere," he pointed out, looking up.  
  
She sighed. "Yes, it can be."  
  
Minerva continued as she switched rooms, "But you must understand that I lo—I mean, I can't have you going against your healer's wishes."  
Albus smiled as he detected that Minerva had not finished what she was trying to say. Slowly, he hobbled along behind her, watching as she set the dishes to wash themselves and continued to putter in the kitchen, putting things away and such. Albus leaned on the counter with one hand and allowed himself the momentary joy of an amused smile. Finally, he shook his head and could keep quiet no longer.  
"Minerva?"  
"Yes?" Minerva replied, whirling to face him in surprise. She was waiting for him to say he needed something or was feeling ill.  
"Come over here, please," Albus asked. Puzzled, Minerva obeyed.  
"Closer," Albus said. Minerva took a few steps closer to him, her heart starting to beat faster. Slowly, Albus took his hand from the counter and wrapped both arms around her narrow waistline, pulling her still closer.  
"There, that's better," Albus said, his own heartbeat becoming more pronounced as her hands came to rest on his upper arms. "Now, I don't think you were finished talking before. What did you really mean to say?" Minerva couldn't seem to speak. She was terrified. Could she really tell him? Then it dawned on her: this was just what she had been dreaming while he was away. She looked into his eyes and lightly reached to stroke his beard and long flowing hair.  
"I love you, Albus," Minerva whispered. Albus' smile grew tenfold with tenderness.  
"Oh, Minerva, whatever took you so long?" Albus murmured. Minerva's heart melted. Slowly, she leaned closer to his face and then hesitated.  
"I don't bite, Minerva," Albus whispered. Minerva was no longer in a mood to hesitate. She covered his lips with her own and Albus tightened his hold on her, making her tingle with excitement. She continued to kiss him, both of them relishing the release of emotion accompanying their admission of love. When Minerva finally pulled back, she was lost for words.  
"Minerva?" Albus murmured.  
"Yes, Albus?" she replied.  
"I love you, too."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Chapter 2: 


	2. Wizarding Paparrazi

Chapter 2: Wizarding Paparazzi  
  
Now that Albus and Minerva had confessed their love for each other, it seemed like everyone wanted their time. Minerva remembered Conner now. He'd been in Hufflepuff, three years above her, along with Alastor Moody, Stewart Pomfrey, Griffith Hooch, Milo Camden, Rremly Redgrave, and Loupe Cardon.  
  
She was certainly glad Conner was the one to interview Albus, instead of some of the other reporters out there. He respected Albus immensely as a teacher and as the man who stopped Grindelwald. He seemed to know instinctively what topics to cover in his interview with Albus and which topics to avoid, including his budding relationship with Minerva.  
  
The article that appeared in the _Daily Prophet_ several days after the interview had contained only the answers Albus had provided and nothing more, without even a hint that Albus and Minerva were involved.  
  
Unfortunately, this had led the other newspapers and magazines to list Albus as the most eligible bachelor. Somehow, they found out where Albus was staying and set up camp outside Minerva's flat. Neither had been able to leave by the front door and even Apparating didn't do much good because they couldn't seem to Apparate more than a dozen feet from the flat.  
  
For a similar reason, Floo Powder didn't work either. They couldn't hold a conversation with anyone via the fireplace because the reporters would somehow intrude, shouting their questions at whoever was trying to use the fireplace. Any attempt to use Floo to leave the flat just sent the user tumbling back into the room.  
  
Worse than either of those were the owls. At all hours of the day, more than one owl was crowded onto the perch with poor Athena, Minerva's brown owl. More often than not, they were fan letters from witches, gushing about how handsome and wonderful Albus was.  
  
Letters and poems arrived daily, twittering about the twinkle in his eyes, the lushness of his hair and beard, his handsome, chiseled features, and so on. Minerva thought them rather silly, but then she had the real deal living with her.  
  
Granted, he'd been nothing but honorable in his dealings with her, but she could tell the gushing ladies about the Albus Dumbledore they were rhapsodizing about in their letters and poems. She could tell them the exact taste and texture of his kiss, what it felt like to be touched and caressed by his talented hands; how soft and silky his auburn hair was when she ran her fingers through them;  
  
how the way he looked into her eyes made her feel cherished and treasured; but she never would. She didn't want them trying even harder to catch him.  
  
Minerva had tolerated the problems because, well, she loved Albus and didn't mind having him near. When an owl woke her early one morning, though, her hold on her Scottish temper broke: "I cannot take it anymore! Owls at all hours of the day! Reporters camped outside my door! Prisoner in my own home! I just cannot take it!"  
  
"Minerva, dear, what is it?" Albus asked, hurrying into the room.  
  
When his arms enfolded her, she burrowed into his embrace. "Albus, I do not know how you handle all this. I want to leave, but I cannot without being accosted by reporters asking me about you."  
  
"Shh, my darling, shh," he murmured, rocking her in his arms.  
  
She sniffled back tears, taking comfort in being near him. "Albus, is there nothing we can do?"  
  
"Hmm, I have an idea," he answered, looking thoughtful, as he handed her his handkerchief.  
  
Minerva looked up at him hopefully. "What kind of idea?"  
  
"You shall see, my dear Minerva," Albus told her mysteriously. "You shall see."  
  
* * * Fawkes had been a comfort to both of them, chirruping cheerful melodies to help them ignore the reporters waiting outside, but even that began to lose its effectiveness. By accident, Albus discovered that the phoenix could carry messages to others for them and he used that to contact a friend of his.  
  
Upon reading Albus' note, the friend chuckled and scribbled a quick reply before sending Fawkes back. When Albus received the return message, he immediately sought out Minerva. "My dear, how long will it take you to pack enough for an indefinite stay?"  
  
"Indefinite stay where?" she asked him curiously, the firelight glinting on the lenses of her reading glasses.  
  
He handed her the note. "Read this."  
  
"Albus?" She took the note, but kept her gaze on him.  
  
He sat down beside her on the loveseat, kissing her forehead. "Read it, and then I will explain."  
  
"Very well." She looked down at the note and read it quickly. Her eyes were shining when she looked back at him. "You are serious, Albus? This is not a joke?" He raised a hand and cupped her cheek. She leaned into the caress, a smile on her face for the first time in weeks. "Quite serious. So, how long will it take you to pack?" "Not long at all," she assured him, moving to rise and do just that.  
  
Unfortunately, Albus had sat on a fold of her robe and she fell back onto the loveseat in a most ungraceful manner, causing both of them to laugh uproariously. It slowly faded as they got lost in each other's gazes. Slowly, his head lowered and his lips covered hers in a tender kiss.  
  
Making a sound of impatience, she deepened the kiss, her arms winding their way around his neck while his slipped around her waist. After several eternities, Albus pulled back to look down into her flushed face, her lips swollen from the kiss and her eyes half-closed. "My dear, do you think you can wait a bit before packing?"  
  
"Maybe," she replied vaguely, looking up at him through her lashes. "It depends on if you can think of something better we can do with our time."  
  
His response was to kiss her again.  
  
* * * They arrived in front of a cozy cottage in the mountains of Colorado about a week later, thanks to Fawkes. Each carried a single carpetbag. Hers was green tartan, of course, and his was purple with a silver pattern. As they studied the cottage, Fawkes settled himself on Albus' shoulder. "What do you think, my dear?"  
  
"It is wonderful," she told him, her eyes drinking in the sight. Set in the middle of a clearing in the evergreen forest, the cabin was the typical log cabin with a stone chimney. Minerva breathed deeply, enjoyed the scent of pine trees. She'd always loved it as a little girl because it reminded her of Christmas. When she turned to her companion, there was a bemused smile on his face. "Yes?"  
  
He smiled, drawing her to him for a kiss. "Nothing, my dear. I am just thankful I have you in my life now."  
  
"I am quite thankful for that myself," she replied, resting her head on his shoulder.  
  
They stood there in silence for a few moments before Albus spoke up again. "Shall we go investigate?"  
  
"Yes!" Grabbing his hand, she virtually dragged him into the log cabin that would be their refuge until the hoopla over Grindelwald's defeat finally died down.  
  
* * * After they arrived at the cabin, Albus and Minerva's days relaxed into pure, unhurried rhythm. Each spent hours each day reading, dueling for fun and practice, swimming in the nearby waterfall, and of course, the nights in each other's arms were far from ordinary. Let the reader bear in mind that our favorite lovers were not being promiscuous during their stay at the cabin, but simply enjoying the comfort of one another's arms as they lay in the hammock in the shade or on the couch in the sitting room of the cabin.  
  
Late one evening several months later, Minerva sat curled up in a stuffed chair with her sixth novel in her steady hands. A fire crackled in the fireplace and warmed the room, effectively fending off the chill of the day. There was a tartan blanket tucked around Minerva's legs and hiding her feet. She was so engrossed in her book that she hardly noticed Albus gathering pillows and blankets and arranging them on the floor not far from the chair she sat in but still out of her sight. When Minerva heard the distinct *fwump* of a large pillow, she shifted in her chair to crane her neck around and see. Albus waved his hand and Minerva's chair moved away so that the area behind the chair received some of the warmth from the fire. When the chair came to a halt, Minerva joined him on the floor, sinking gracefully to the blankets.  
  
Albus produced two glasses of champagne and handed one to Minerva as she smiled.  
  
"What's this all about?" she purred, obviously pleased.  
  
"To celebrate, my dear. We haven't had a quiet bit of time like this in ages," said Albus. Minerva sipped her champagne and took a deep breath. It really did feel good to have things quiet for once. Fawkes and Athena rested on a tiered perch near a window, and other than the soft sounds of their breathing, there was no other sound in the room. Two empty champagne glasses came back to rest on a nearby table, and Minerva reached to cup Albus' face in her hand.  
  
"When did I last tell you I loved you?" she murmured.  
  
"After a few minutes I lost track," Albus quipped. Minerva couldn't resist letting Albus push her backwards into the pile of pillows behind her. She reveled in his kiss, breathing deeply as that kiss meandered down her jaw line and nibbled her earlobe before descending to her neck and collarbone. Minerva shuddered.  
  
"Oh, Albus, I want you beside me forever!" whispered Minerva. "Those women who write to you—"  
  
"...mean nothing to me," he finished for her. "You're a far better poet." Minerva laughed. Albus' eyes danced in the fire light.  
  
"Me? How am I a much better poet?" she inquired.  
  
"My dear, a woman like you defies the language of mortal men. There are no words to describe what you are to me, so I will merely sit in stunned, reverent silence and worship the temple that is your body with my kiss. You are my own, living, breathing poem," Albus said, his eloquent speech nearly driving Minerva to tears.  
  
"Albus, I love you," Minerva murmured, bringing his lips to hers again. Moments later, Albus pulled back, removed her glasses from her face and released her hair from the confines of the bun she wore it in. He smoothed her curls with his fingers and kissed her again before whispering, "There. That's better." Speechless for an eternity, Minerva finally spoke.  
  
"Albus, I don't want this night to end," she whispered. Her heart was pounding with love for him.  
  
"Minerva, will you marry me?" Albus asked. There was no doubt what her answer would be.  
  
"Yes!"  
  
Albus produced a diamond and ruby ring from a small pouch in his pocket and placed it on her hand. The sun was rising the next morning before the two finally slept, still cuddled together on the floor amid the pillows and blankets.  
  
* * * Minerva slipped into the back yard early one glorious Sunday morning in June and sank slowly into the hammock. Swinging just a little, Minerva inhaled the scent of the lilac bushes and smiled as a light breeze kissed her cheeks. She loved Albus very much, but she also direly needed her time to herself. Minerva let her eyes droop shut for a while as she listened to a bird sing up in a tree. Minerva chuckled at this. She was fighting a deep inner urge to transform into a cat, leap into the tree and eat that bird. Eventually, the human side of her won out, and she relaxed against the firm net of the hammock.  
  
The better part of half an hour went by before Minerva heard a twig snap nearby. She sat bolt upright, skillfully keeping her balance in the hammock. One hand on her wand, Minerva scanned the landscape. When she finished one direction, she looked back toward the other only to come maddeningly close to hitting the front of a camera. Suddenly, the flash went off several times in rapid succession and Minerva was blinded. The shock threw her off balance and this time she landed hard on the ground. The jolt knocked the wind out of her, making her dizzy in addition to the spots she was seeing from the flashes of two cameras.  
  
"Where's Albus Dumbledore?" "Is this his mountain retreat?" "Why did you run away from London?" "Is the Great Wizard still unwell?" "Why did he choose to bring you along? Are you still his caretaker?" "I see you're wearing a ring. Are we to expect wedding bells?"  
  
The barrage of questions and the flash of cameras continued as Minerva fought her way off the ground and ran for the house, quickly slamming the door behind her. She turned to see a stunned Albus standing in the middle of the kitchen floor, staring in wide-eyed shock. Quickly, he commanded all of the draperies in the cabin to close, and then he moved to pull Minerva close. Minerva burst into tears, clutching Albus' robes for support. "Why can't they just leave us alone, Albus?"  
  
"I do not know, my dear, I do not know," he replied with a sigh. "I will not let them trap us here this time."  
  
She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. "Where will we go from here?"  
  
"Pack as quickly as you can," he instructed her, wiping away the last of her tears with his thumb.  
  
She nodded and stood on tiptoes to kiss him quickly. "I love you, Albus."  
  
"I love you, too, Minerva." He kissed her forehead and gave her a gentle push in the direction of the door to the kitchen. "Go." She went and he crossed to the door. Opening it, he was bombarded with questions. Holding up his hands, he waited until the questions had died down before speaking, "I have nothing to say at this time except to request that you leave me in peace. When I am ready to make a statement, I will contact the people I wish to make it to, thank you."  
  
As he stepped back into the cabin and closed the door, the reporters shouted questions after him, but he ignored them. Finding some privacy was not going to be easy.  
  
* * *  
  
'GREAT WIZARD' BACK AT HOGWARTS  
  
September 1, 1946--Professor Albus Dumbledore, the Wizard Who Defeated Grindelwald, has returned to his post as Transfiguration Professor and Head of Gryffindor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry after a year- long sabbatical. He spent half of it seeking out and defeating the Dark Wizard, Grindelwald, and the other half recovering from the ordeal under the care of Miss Minerva McGonagall. The two were forced to change locations several times during his recovery due to the persistence of several reporters. In the process, he proposed and she accepted. They were married this summer at an undisclosed location in a small ceremony attended only by close friends and family of the bride and groom. Those same friends and family are the only ones aware of where the new bride and groom are now residing and this reporter suggests that those who are not in either group not even bother trying to contact either. 'The Daily Prophet' would like to extend their congratulations to the happy couple.  
  
Conner Cleas, Daily Prophet reporter.  
  
"What did I tell you, my dear?" Albus looked down at his new wife. "He was the only reporter who remained in London. He did not even camp outside your home with the others."  
  
She sighed and curled up against him. "I am aware of that, Albus, but I am not sure if letting him announce our marriage was a good idea."  
  
"Would you rather I receive proposals from witches I do not even know?" he asked, blue eyes twinkling merrily.  
  
She chuckled. "You have me there, Albus, but it is not a pleasant idea to ponder."  
  
"Perhaps I can give you something else to ponder?" he suggested, wrapping his arms around her.  
  
She smiled and met his kiss halfway. Still kissing her, he lowered her to the bed and, she mused later, it was an excellent way to take her mind off unpleasant things. 


	3. Your Wife or Your Socks!

Chapter 3: Your Wife or Your Socks!  
  
"Albus?" Minerva called. The year was now 1953. While Albus still occasionally received fan mail or other odd requests, his devotion to Minerva had been nothing short of stellar. Minerva lifted herself up off the bed and waddled to the window. Lightly, she ran her hands over her rapidly expanding stomach. The set of twins that Poppy Pomfrey informed her that she was carrying were just beginning to kick inside her. She was sure they would give one another bruises before they even left her womb. Minerva mentally replayed Poppy's voice in her head saying that she needed to relax this time. Albus and Minerva had become pregnant with their first child early in their marriage, around 1948, but it was never meant to be. This child emerged from Minerva's body stillborn, and Minerva couldn't quite seem to forgive herself. Albus had taken the baby's death very hard, and even though Poppy tried to console them and remind them that there was nothing they could have done, Minerva blamed herself, and Albus continued to mourn. All of this subconsciously prevented them from having children over the next few years, even though Albus managed slowly to move on. Minerva's fear of delivering another stillborn haunted her dreams, and it had only been through Poppy's intervention and Albus' encouragement that Minerva had been able to release herself from her fears and 'allow' her body to conceive. The pair had been thrilled to hear that they were carrying twins. They felt like God was somehow 'making up' for the past seven empty years.  
  
Albus appeared as commanded and wrapped his arms around Minerva's middle.  
  
"You called, my darling?" he asked, his tone betraying unhurried happiness.  
  
"Could we go for a walk, Albus? I could really use the fresh air!" Minerva asked. Albus kissed her neck and Minerva could feel the curve of the smile on his face.  
  
"Of course, my love. A good jaunt around the grounds may do us both good," Albus said, moving to retrieve Minerva's cloak from the closet.  
  
As they left the castle, Minerva took a deep breath of the fresh breeze about them and tucked her hand into the crook of Albus' arm. After they had walked a little ways from the castle, Minerva brought up the fact that they still did not have names for the twins, even though they were nearing their due date. The great witch and wizard tossed about many, many names. They tried traditional ones, English ones, Scottish ones, elaborate ones, unusual ones and everything in between.  
  
"How about this," Albus said as they neared the tree row near the lake, "Molly Guinevere for a girl." Minerva smiled.  
  
"I like the name Molly. I've always liked the name Quentin. How about that for a boy?" Minerva asked. An after thought struck her and she blurted, "Quentin Lancelot."  
  
Albus laughed at her indulgence of his word games. The name issue settled, the pair returned to the castle. Minerva went to lie down before dinner and Albus went to his office for a while to finish some last minute work before the evening. He made an effort to spend his evenings with Minerva whenever possible. She was the single most important thing in his life, and now that she was carrying not one but two of his children, she was more important to him now than ever.  
  
As he worked, Albus softly hummed a tune. He was mildly distracted by the way his wife and their unborn children seemed to be ever present in his thoughts. Just as he seemed to knuckle down and concentrate, he would begin to daydream about what is was going to be like to be a father. He smiled and continued his work.  
  
The next morning, a cool, rainy Saturday, Albus gingerly rose from the warm bed he shared with Minerva and winced as his aging feet touched the cold floor. One would think after as long as he had been alive, that he would be used to it, but for some reason, nothing seemed to take away that reaction. Albus shuffled to the bathroom and softly shut the door behind him.  
  
As he stood in the bathroom, he heard the sound of their bedsprings creaking. Minerva must have awakened also. Albus resolved to make his morning routine quicker than usual so that she could use the bathroom. When one has to perform every function for not just one's self, but for two others as well, it cut down severely on one's patience for anyone else in the facility that you need.  
  
Albus listened for Minerva's footsteps on the floor but didn't hear them. He finished quickly and pulled open the bathroom door. He looked out over their bed and found it empty. Frantically, he looked about, hoping to find her hiding in some corner of the room to scare him, but she didn't appear. He saw that their bedroom window was open and panicked. What had happened? Could Minerva have fallen? He rushed to the ledge and looked out, but he didn't find any trace of her. Numb, he sat back on the bed and rubbed his eyes. As he rested his weight on the bed, he heard the crunch of a piece of parchment beneath him. Pulling this out, he read it with shaking hands. Minerva had been kidnapped and the perpetrator demanded one thousand gold galleons. Albus rested his hands in his lap and stared out the open window. It seemed a petty amount for someone who was to him, worth his life.  
  
Albus flicked his wand and made their bed, pausing to smooth away a wrinkle. He never was much for domestic spells. He looked again at the note. The demands were absurd. In addition to the money, they wanted a large bag of chocolate cockroaches, and, perhaps most damaging of all, they wanted a pair of Albus' socks. Albus winced for a fraction of a second before going to his wardrobe to retrieve the socks requested in the letter. They were Albus' favorites: a pair that Minerva herself had knitted for him. Gritting his teeth and reminding himself that when he got Minerva back, he could convince her to knit him another pair, he apparated to the site described in the ransom note with the money, the chocolate, and the socks in hand.  
  
When Minerva awoke, she found herself, not in her husband's arms--though that, in itself was not unusual. He often woke before she did these days-- nor the bed they had shared all through their marriage. She was lying in a narrow bed with a lumpy mattress and threadbare blankets. The pillow was rather flat, too. Blinking, she looked around to see that she was in a dilapidated room with rather worn and shabby furnishings. Sitting in a chair by the door was a woman who fit the stereotypical muggle image of a witch, a large, crooked hooked nose, several facial warts, and other distinctive anomalies.  
  
"Oh, I'm so glad you're awake!"  
  
"Excuse me," Minerva ignored the smile on the other woman's face, "but where am I?"  
  
The woman got up and shuffled closer to the bed. "My home in Hogsmeade. I hope you don't mind."  
  
"Mind?" Minerva asked, incredulity lacing her voice. She was Merlin-knew- where with a woman she didn't know and she wondered if Minerva minded! "No, of course I don't mind being taken from my bed and home in the middle of the night to be brought here."  
  
"Could you please tell me your name?" Minerva asked, wanting to know the name of the person she was inches from killing on the spot.  
  
She stared at Minerva for a moment before hitting her forehead with the heel of her hand. "I'm sorry, how rude of me. I'm Calliope Creevey." A grin spread across her face. "And you're Albus Dumbledore's wife."  
  
"My name is Minerva." She'd had this happen often before. People would recognize her as Albus' wife, not Minerva. It was a bit annoying. "May I ask why I am here?"  
  
The woman grinned and nodded, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Because we want to meet your husband!"  
  
Minerva blinked, startled. "What do you mean, 'we'?"  
  
"Oh, my husband, Bertram and I," Calliope explained, her voice cheerfully sweet. "We're both Squibs and this was the only way we could think of to meet the great Albus Dumbledore."  
  
Her voice became reverent at the end and it was all Minerva could do to hold in an exasperated sigh. "You do realize that this is kidnapping and you could go to prison?"  
  
"How else can we meet the Wizard Who Defeated Grindelwald?" Calliope asked, yellow eyes wide with surprise.  
  
Minerva buried her face in her hands. 'I cannot believe I'm having this conversation.' She looked up. "Now what are you going to do?"  
  
"Wait for Professor Dumbledore--" the reverence in her tone made Minerva grit her teeth, "--to arrive, of course."  
  
Feeling very much as if she was talking to a child, Minerva asked, "And when do you expect him to arrive?"  
  
"Oh, he'll show up, eventually," was the airy reply, accompanied by an equally-airy wave of her hand. The airiness of the gesture was lost when the many rings on her fingers got caught in her blonde hair. "Drat these rings! They're always getting in the way!" Minerva shook her head just as her stomach rumbled reminding her that she hadn't eaten since last night. "May I have something to eat?"  
  
"Oh, sure, of course!" Calliope rushed from the room, almost tripping over the chair in her haste.  
  
Minerva shook her head again and sighed. "Albus, I hope you arrive soon. I'm not sure how long I can stand these people."  
  
Albus stared up at the shabby shack he'd appeared in front of. This is where he was supposed to rescue his wife? "Something tells me this is not quite what I thought." Checking to make sure he had everything, he made his way to the front door and knocked. It rattled badly on its hinges with each rap.  
  
After a short wait, the door opened to reveal a tall, broad-shouldered man with mousy brown hair and hazel eyes. "Bertram Creevey?"  
  
"Bless my soul," he breathed, "Albus Dumbledore."  
  
Albus raised his eyebrows at this. "Yes, I am he."  
  
"Come in, come in." The man stepped back and gestured for Albus to enter. He did so with some trepidation, absently wondering if the rickety building would fall down on them if he made one wrong move. "Callie! He's here!"  
  
There was a clattering sound that grew louder until a small, petite woman appeared, blue-gray eyes wide with wonder and reverence. "Albus Dumbledore."  
  
"Would either of you mind telling me what is going on?" Albus asked, beginning to feel his considerable patience wear thin. "I received a note stating that, if I wanted my wife alive, I would be here with one thousand galleons, a large bag of chocolate cockroaches, and a pair of my socks."  
  
The woman tugged on the man's arm, whispering, "Go ahead, Bertie."  
  
"Give me a minute, Callie," he whispered back. Clearing his throat and straightening up to his full height, he stared straight at Albus and gravely intoned, "Your wife or your socks!" The gravity of the statement was ruined by the smile that immediately spread across the large man's face. "I've always wanted to say that!" Husband and wife giggled and laughed and jumped up and down. Albus was having serious thoughts of a certain killing curse. Or perhaps a well-placed memory charm. Whatever he decided to do, he had to do it soon. There was only so much of this he could take. Dropping the objects on the table, Albus set off past the couple and peered into the hallway.  
  
"Where is my wife?" Albus asked, wondering how many rooms were in the plain dwelling.  
  
"Oh! She's--"  
  
"She's right here," said Minerva, carefully stepping around objects in the hallway. It wasn't easy to keep her belly from hitting things in the narrow passage. Albus took her hand to steady her and lead her toward the door.  
  
"Wait! Do stay for dinner!" Calliope cried.  
  
"You'll forgive us if we politely decline. I've had about as much excitement as I can stand in one day," Minerva replied tartly, resting one hand over her abdomen. Albus took this as their cue to exit and the two flagged down a carriage to return them to the school. They could have simply apparated to the school grounds, but with Minerva pregnant, they didn't want to take any chances. They didn't know if there were any side effects to apparition, even though Poppy assured them that there were none that were known to the wizarding medical community. It just wasn't worth the risk.  
  
When finally they returned to the school, Minerva was quite tired and Albus was behind on several bits of work that should have been done that morning. Retiring to their quarters, no one in the castle heard a peep out of them until much later that day.  
  
Albus tiptoed up to the bedroom he shared with Minerva. She was lying on their bed, a blanket spread over her legs. She was awake and appeared to be deep in thought. Albus crept up to the bed and lay down beside her. Gently, he stroked her hair and then her face. Minerva smiled. Lightly, she leaned forward and kissed Albus' lips. Albus leaned into the kiss, sending a shiver down Minerva's spine. It had been months since they had been intimate.  
  
"Minerva, I wonder if you would indulge me something," Albus asked.  
  
"Anything."  
  
"Poppy informs me that sexual intimacy is not detrimental to pregnancy," Albus replied, hoping she would not think him insensitive for asking for it. Minerva chuckled a moment.  
  
"Oh Albus, please, indulge away!"  
  
That August, Minerva insisted on attending the Quidditch World Cup game between the Holyhead Harpies and Heidelberg Harriers with Albus.

"My love, is that wise?"

"Albus, Rolanda is my friend," Minerva patiently explained. "If I were the one playing and she were pregnant, she would be at the game anyway." Albus smiled, even as he gave in.

"Well, Rolanda would have to find a husband before getting herself pregnant."

"Stewart would gladly volunteer, I am sure," Minerva smirked, beginning to go through their clothes to determine what they would need. Albus chuckled before slipping his arms around her from behind and resting his long-fingered hands on her abdomen.

"I am glad that Poppy will be there, too."

"Yes, and Alastor, Stewart, Milo, Mira, Griffith, Rremly, Loupe, Irma, Arabelle, Fianna, Daniel, and Bella," Minerva reeled off the names of their other friends without pausing in her packing. Another chuckle was all the warning she received before Albus took her face in his hands and kissed her softly. She kissed him back for only a few moments before returning her attention to their clothes. Albus frowned for a moment before gently drawing her away from the wardrobe and turning her in his arms.

"Minerva, we still have a few days."

"Our clothes won't pack themselves," she objected before he kissed her again. She resisted for all of two seconds before winding her arms around his neck and returning it. He deepened the kiss, making her shudder in his arms. When he pulled back, her face was flushed, her eyes were darker than usual, and her lips were slightly swollen. Without another word, she drew his head back down to hers for another kiss.

Two weeks later, Minerva was beginning to wonder if she'd made the right decision. The Harpies and Harriers had been playing for six days straight and were well into their seventh day. Poppy had insisted that Minerva go to bed every night, having scolded her for coming in the first place when she and Albus had arrived for the game itself. Minerva had agreed, only if Albus would be there with her. With the twins due pretty much any day now, Minerva did not want to be too far from her husband. Albus had agreed because he wanted his wife to be careful. The others promised to record everything on their Omnioculars so Albus and Minerva wouldn't miss much. When Rolanda hit a Bludger so it stopped a Quaffle from scoring, all fifteen of them jumped to their feet and yelled, hollered, and screamed for all their worth, glad that their friend was playing so well. As she stood between Albus and Alastor, watching Rolanda, Minerva felt a sharp stab of pain in her abdomen and gasped.

"Min, is something wrong?"

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?" Minerva asked Alastor with a smile, even as she tugged at her husband's sleeve. He dipped his head so they could speak without trying to yell over the cheers of the people around them. "Yes, my dear?"

"Albus, I think it's time," she told him. Instead of looking concerned, as she'd expected, he looked skeptical.

"Perhaps it's just the excitement."

"No, Albus," she insisted before another pain made itself known, causing her to double over. He sounded concerned as he immediately wrapped his arms around.

"Or perhaps not." They carefully made their way from the stands, collecting Poppy along the way. Poppy and Albus made Minerva comfortable in the tent Albus and Minerva had invested in for long Quidditch games. From the outside, it looked like an ordinary two-person tent. Inside, it strongly resembled their home in Britain, except it was one floor instead of two. At the moment, Minerva didn't really care. The babies wanted out, and they wanted out NOW! As the new parents marveled over their newborn twins, a whirlwind in forest green Quidditch robes and topped by tawny hair pulled back into a ponytail barged into the tent. "How dare you have your babies without me?"  
  
"Er, Ro, dear, you were playing in the game of the century," Poppy pointed out from where she stood between Alastor and Stewart. Rolanda waved it off, yellow eyes flashing. "That doesn't matter! One of my best friends is having babies and I'm not informed?! What is the world coming to? Despite what you may think of me, I do NOT consider Quidditch the be-all and end-all of existence! There are more important things in the world, like friends and fam-mmph!"  
  
She'd been cut off mid-word by Stewart's mouth on hers. For all of two seconds, she stood frozen as he continued to kiss her. With a sigh, she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and kissed him back. When he lifted his head, she looked dazed. It didn't take long for her to pull his head back down to hers for another kiss.  
  
"About ruddy time, I say!"  
  
"Griff?"  
  
"Yes, Mira?"  
  
"Shut it."  
  
"Why? Mmph!"  
  
Laughter rang out as the Kestrals' Seeker suddenly found himself being soundly kissed by Mira Camden, one of the most popular authors in the wizarding world.  
  
"Serves you right, Bro!"  
  
Griffith took his time finishing the kiss. "Sis, you focus on Stew, I'll focus on Mira. How's that?"  
  
"Suits me fine," Stewart commented, pulling Rolanda into another kiss.  
  
"And me," Mira added before kissing Griffith again.  
  
The new parents celebrated the birth of their children with their friends while England celebrated the Harpies' triumph over the Harriers. An exhausted Poppy gladly returned to the tent she shared with her own husband, Alastor. He was content to hold her in his arms as she slept and wonder if they would have children of their own someday.


	4. Leaps and Bounds

4. Leaps and Bounds  
  
Albus and Minerva's ten-year anniversary had arrived. The twins were two years old now, almost three, and being watched by Alastor and Poppy at their home near Liddell. Albus and Minerva were looking forward to having the day to themselves. It was nearly twelve when they finally got up and dressed, mainly because their stomachs were rather empty and demanding sustenance. They descended the stairs hand-in-hand and glanced at each other often, exchanging smiles when their eyes met. After several pauses to exchange kisses, they finally reached the kitchen and spotted the envelopes waiting for them on the kitchen table. While Minerva walked over to the refrigerator to gather items for sandwiches, Albus walked over to the table to look through the post. One envelope bore the Hogwarts crest and, since the twins were most definitely too young to be receiving their Hogwarts letters yet, Albus opened that envelope first. Albus had taken an indefinite leave of absence right before the twins were born so he could help Minerva while they were young. Upon reading the letter, Albus sat rather heavily at the table. "Albus? What is it?"  
  
"Read this, my dear," Albus told his wife, offering the letter to her.  
  
Puzzled, she took the letter and read it herself. Her eyes were wide with surprise by the time she finished. "Why does Icarus want you to take over as the Deputy? You haven't been on staff for two years."  
  
"I've no idea, Minerva," he confessed, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his cheek against her stomach. "It is quite an honor, though."  
  
She stroked his hair, absently noticing that silver had begun to thread its way through the auburn. "Yes, it is. Are you going to accept?"  
  
"Do you think I should?" he answered her question with one of his own as he leaned back to look up at her.  
  
She thought for a moment, studying the letter still in her hand. "I really do not know what to say, my love. It is quite an honor, but the twins and I would miss you when you are gone."  
  
"I would miss you as well, Minerva, I can assure you of that." His eyes were twinkling as he gently tugged her down onto his lap.  
  
She smiled, looping her arms around his neck. "Does this mean you will accept, Albus?"  
  
"Yes, I suppose it does," he replied, rubbing his nose against hers.  
  
She smiled and kissed him warmly. "Perhaps we should store up some memories in preparation for the lonely nights to come?"  
  
"Perhaps we should."  
  
Albus left for Hogwarts two weeks before the start of the new term so he would have time to prepare. During the term, he spent as many weekends as he could with Minerva and the twins, but being the Deputy made it difficult at times. One Saturday, early in December, Minerva received a letter from Icarus Diggle (the Headmaster) that made her most anxious to see her husband. She waited until the twins had been put to bed and they were cuddled together on the sofa in front of the fire, each with their drink of choice, before speaking of what had been weighing heavily on her mind all day. "Albus, what happened to Timothy Spalding?"  
  
"As you know, the Muggle Studies classroom has been specially designed to allow the students the opportunity to use Muggle objects," he began quietly. She nodded and encouraged him to continue. "Well, Tim was demonstrating proper safety around a Muggle toaster and accidentally stuck a fork in the toaster."  
  
Minerva closed her eyes and sighed. "I gather that he has decided he is better off not teaching anymore?"  
  
"Yes, you gather correctly," Albus confirmed.  
  
Minerva considered that for a few moments. "Why me, though? Why not someone like Stewart?" Stewart had excelled in Muggle Studies while he was a student at Hogwarts.  
  
"My dear, we have missed each other terribly these past few months," Albus explained. "I have tried to get away on weekends, but it does not work. By having you come teach, we will not have to worry about finding time for each other."  
  
She stared into the fire, absently stroking his hand where it rested on her stomach. "What of the twins? What will we do with them?"  
  
"Bring them with us, of course," he replied, as if it was the obvious answer. "They would not be the first to grow up at Hogwarts."  
  
Minerva blinked at this news. "You mean, other staff members have raised their children while at Hogwarts?"  
  
"Yes." He nodded. "In fact, Icarus raised his son, Dedalus, there until he was eleven."  
  
Minerva absorbed this information with a frown. "What about primary school? Will we still be able to do that while at Hogwarts?"  
  
"It will be even easier at Hogwarts," Albus explained. "The teachers' schedules have always been arranged in such a way that their free hours do not overlap. That way, the professors can take some time to tutor younger children if there are any at the school. If there are none, then they still have the free hour."  
  
Minerva smiled up at her husband, the last of her concerns addressed. "I suppose we should start packing, then."  
  
"Wonderful!" He smiled down at her, bright blue eyes twinkling. "It is too late to start tonight, but I can think of something else to occupy our time."  
  
She raised her eyebrows, smirking. "What might that be?"  
  
"Come to bed with me and I will show you," he suggested, smoothing a hand over her hip.  
  
She rose to her feet and held her hand out to her husband. "Gladly."  
  
A week before the spring term began, Minerva went to Liddell to do something she had been looking forward to for some time: collect her children. The twins were a handful, yes, but they were still her babies and both she and Albus missed them sorely. The wind blew Minerva's hood back as she walked along the gently worn road that led to Alastor and Poppy's cozy cottage, Fernside. When she looked up, Poppy was standing at the open front door and two little people came running, despite Poppy's ardent pleas to be careful and not run. Minerva dropped to her knees as they grew nearer and the twins nearly knocked her over as they plowed into her, squealing and giggling. "I missed you, Mommy!" cried Molly. "I missed you too, Mommy!" Quentin cried. Molly and Quentin, though they were indeed twins, did not look identical. Molly's hair was bright red and she lacked freckles, where as Quentin, much like his father, had darker, auburn hair and a light dusting of freckles. What they did have in common, was the familiar twinkle that Minerva knew all too well that her children received from their father. "I love you both so much! Mommy and Daddy have missed you! Oh, my, we've missed you!" Minerva wept, kissing her children and holding them tight. By the time Minerva stood, Poppy had caught up with them and demanded a hug of her own. "Spoil your children with all these kisses and hugs and not even a glance to me!" Poppy teased. Minerva dusted off her skirt and enveloped her best friend in a warm embrace.  
  
"Oh, Poppy, I've missed you too!" Minerva chuckled, "How can I ever repay you and Alastor for all you've done? And as for spoiling them, I'm sure your husband did a good enough job of that for us!" Poppy blushed.  
  
"Oh, all right, so we have spoiled them a bit," Poppy confessed, "but nothing you and Albus would not have done in our stead." Minerva laughed, and a very cheerful Alastor met them at the door where he picked Minerva up and swung her in a circle. After demanding that he put her down, Minerva demanded to know what his fuss was about.  
  
"Poppy hasn't told you?" Alastor exclaimed.  
  
"No! What?" asked Minerva, whirling to face her friend. Poppy just smiled vividly and blushed, trying to find something interesting in the area of her shoes. Minerva looked at Alastor, whose handsome face had gone scarlet. She looked back at Poppy and finally found her voice.  
  
"You're pregnant!" cried Minerva. Poppy and Alastor both shyly nodded and Minerva threw herself into each of their arms again.  
  
"We've had such fun caring for you and Albus' dear ones that we decided it was high time we had one of our own," Poppy said happily scooping Molly into her arms and holding her.  
  
After gathering the twins' things, Minerva, Molly and Quentin left Fernside and headed for home. The carriage ride seemed to take forever, but when they finally arrived home, Albus was waiting for them at the door.  
  
"Daddy!" squealed Molly, jumping down out of the carriage and running for the house.  
  
"Don't run!" shouted Minerva, but the twins were already yards from her and nearly to Albus' side. Minerva shook her head. It didn't matter what she said; no ocean or mountain range on earth could have separated Albus from his children today. Minerva nearly wept happy tears as she watched Albus stoop to his knees and fold the twins into his arms.  
  
"My children," he murmured. "Oh, you're home! I've missed you so much!" Molly only giggled.  
  
"Daddy your beard tickles!" she laughed. Albus proceeded to make the twins laugh and screech with joy as he tickled them both with his whiskers. Minerva made her way to the door and Albus quietly stood, allowing the twins to chase off into the house. Albus and Minerva stood and stared at each other for a moment before they reached for each other in a passionate kiss. The twins watched this kiss from around the corner of the doorframe and laughed out loud. Albus and Minerva broke the kiss and shared a long embrace before entering the house, every inch happier than they had been all week.  
  
Quentin and Molly loved Hogwarts from the moment they arrived. The big, rambling castle had plenty of nooks and crannies for them to explore and the staff was more than willing to keep an eye on the twins if Albus and Minerva couldn't. Well, Apollyon Pringle, the caretaker, grumbled about the two being underfoot while he was working, but he really was rather fond of the twins.  
  
He became rather protective of Molly in particular when she went missing at the age of six and the entire staff combed the castle for her.  
  
"Molly!" Minerva screamed into the open air of the courtyard. Where could her precocious six-year-old daughter have gotten herself lost? At that point, Minerva felt her heart could beat no harder. The sun was setting, the air was gaining a distinct chill and Minerva shuddered at the thought that her child could potentially be somewhere in the forest. Suppressing these horrors in her mind, Minerva flinched as Albus wrapped his hands around her shoulders and gently tugged her back toward the castle where the voices of those who were aiding in the search echoed off the ancient stone walls.  
  
Minerva was surveying the frenzied searchers charging up and down the one hundred forty-two staircases in Hogwarts' castle when she started to lose hope. The castle was huge; how would they ever find her? She leaned into Albus' embrace and rested her head on his shoulder. There was no denying that he was fearful as she was, but he was just better at hiding it. Minerva and Albus ignored the sadistic cackle of Peeves as he floated through the corridor. Seconds later, the anguished sobs of a little girl filled the open area. Albus and Minerva rushed toward the sound and Apollyon came quickly toward them carrying a wailing Molly clutched in his arms. She clung to him as though her life depended on it and cried big, wet, tears onto his suit coat.  
  
She had been trapped in a distant, out of the way broom closet by Peeves, who'd thought it would be amusing to lock her in. Since the locks were magical, poor Molly had had no way to free herself and been stuck for hours before Apollyon found her. Molly kept her eyes tight shut as she sobbed; letting Apollyon murmur that everything was okay now. Minerva very nearly pulled Molly out of his arms and held her, kissing her little head and hugging her tight.  
  
Many people patted Apollyon on the back and congratulated him on finding the tot but only seconds later, the adrenaline still thinning in his blood, Apollyon found himself standing alone in the corridor. While the rest of the school seemed to have forgotten his heroic deed, Molly never did, still calling him "Uncle Appo" long into her 20's.  
  
At long last, Quentin and Molly were old enough to be Sorted. They'd been looking forward to it for years and were particularly rambunctious when they visited Diagon Alley to get their school things. As Minerva and Molly glanced over the supply list and discussed the different school things the twins needed as they walked, young Quentin dropped surreptitiously behind them. When they finally noticed that he was not with them, Minerva looked about frantically for only seconds before Quentin ran up behind her and surprised her. Minerva nearly had a heart attack at this prank and swore that Quentin was grounded until school started.  
  
"Oh, mum, come off it now. It was just a joke!" Quentin pleaded.  
  
"A joke, Quentin Lancelot McGonagall, that could have gotten you kidnapped, hurt, or worse!" Minerva fired back.  
  
"That's another thing. Why is our last name McGonagall and dad's name is Dumbledore?" Quentin continued, to the irritation of his mother.  
  
"Because our marriage is not common knowledge, Quentin. We prefer that it stay that way," Minerva replied more gently.  
  
"Why wouldn't you want anyone to know about your marriage, mum?" asked Molly as they sat down in their room at the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
"I'm afraid, my love, that that is a delicate subject for your father and I," Minerva sighed. "You may not be aware of it, but your father is the most powerful wizard in the world."  
  
"We know that, mum!" Quentin laughed, "We grew up believing that all along!" Minerva shook her head.  
  
"It's true, Quentin," Minerva said gravely. "He really is the most powerful wizard there is, and his blood courses through your veins. There are many wizards in this world that would seek to use a man's family as a means to destroy him. Your father could never stand the thought of that, so the only way to protect us was to discreetly hide us by not making it common knowledge that Albus Dumbledore indeed has a wife and not one, but two children at Hogwarts."  
  
Molly and Quentin were awed. They never realized that their father was such a powerful man or that they would be expected to keep up the charade of concealing their parents' marriage. They both promised their mother that they would keep the secret before they went to bed that night. 


	5. Growing Pains

Moments Together

5.

"What on earth?" Minerva's voice woke Albus from a sound sleep. He watched, still trying to wake up, as Minerva pulled on her tartan dressing gown, and then her hair net. That was when he finally noticed that someone was pounding on the bedroom door. The only ones with the passwords to his and Minerva's sitting rooms were Poppy, Apollyon, Quentin, and Molly. Since Albus was the Headmaster and Minerva was his deputy, the requirement that the Head and Deputy know the passwords to the rooms was already taken care of.

Wondering which of the other four was visiting, Albus watched from the bed as Minerva flung open the bedroom door. "It's about time, Mother!"

"Molly Guinevere McGonagall, what are you doing out of bed at two o' clock in the morning?" Albus smiled to himself as he watched his wife and daughter. He knew exactly where Molly's temper came from.

The sixteen-year-old drew herself up to her full height. "I demand justice, Mother!"

"Justice?" Minerva repeated the word, incredulous. "Why can this not wait until morning?"

Albus sat up in bed, wondering the exact same thing. Molly turned to him. "Father! It's Uncle Appo!"

"Mr. Pringle?" Minerva asked. She didn't mind Molly's fondness for the caretaker, but she preferred that the girl show _some_ respect for the poor man, especially now that he had an apprentice, Argus Filch.

Molly rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mother, Mr. Pringle."

"What has he done, Molly?" Albus asked, patting the bed in silent invitation.

As she bounded over to sit down beside him, Albus noted that she was still wearing her uniform. "He's punished Arthur, Father! Without consulting you or Mother!"

"Calm down, Molly." Albus eased his daughter into the crook of his shoulder and stroked her hair. "Now, why was Mr. Pringle punishing Arthur in the middle of the night?"

When she didn't answer promptly, Albus looked down at his daughter to see her head bowed, her red hair curtaining her face. Minerva's voice had a dangerous note to it as she asked, "Molly?"

"He took me out for a moonlit stroll." Molly's voice was barely audible and she promptly buried her face in Albus' beard.

Minerva drew herself up to her full height, her cheeks turning bright pink and her eyes flashing dangerously. "_What_ did he do?"

"That explains why you're still wearing your uniform," Albus mused, fingering the edge of Molly's Hogwarts robe.

He blinked when Molly sat up and stared at him. Minerva, who'd begun to pace, stopped in her tracks and did the same. "Albus, there are times when I worry about you."

"My dear, I do not see the point in getting worked up," Albus replied, gently pulling Molly to sit down beside him once more.

Minerva stared at him. "Worked up? Worked up! Our daughter was out in the middle of night with some boy and you tell me not to get _worked up_!"

"He's not 'some boy', Mother! He's Arthur Weasley!" Molly shot back, sitting straight up on the bed.

That was the wrong thing to do. Minerva seemed to swell. "You are in big trouble, young lady! What were you thinking, going out on the grounds in the middle of the night?! You could have been taken or worse!"

"I was with Arthur, Mother! He would have protected me!" Molly objected, kneeling on the bed in order to face her mother more fully.

Minerva would not be calmed, at least by her daughter. "The curfew is in place for a reason. You broke that curfew!"

"Ladies, please!" Albus inserted, getting to his feet in an attempt to bring peace to the room. "Shouting at each other won't accomplish anything."

Minerva spun to face him, her eyes still flashing. "Our _daughter_ deliberately broke the rules so she could go cavorting around the grounds with--"

"Don't say he's 'some boy', Mother!" Molly cried.

Minerva glowered at Molly and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Her eyes flashing, she turned on her husband. He calmly tucked his wand back into the pocket, looking over at his daughter. No sound came from _her_ mouth, either. "Now that I have both your attention, I believe I can figure out what Molly was trying to tell us earlier." Minerva folded her arms across her chest and glared at her husband. "She and Mr. Weasley went for a walk around the grounds." He quickly captured her hands when she started gesticulating wildly. "Yes, I know, they were out after curfew, but we will come back to that." Minerva glared at him, folding her arms across her chest once more. "Apparently, when they returned from their walk, they ran across Mr. Pringle, who decided to punish Mr. Weasley without consulting either you or I." Turning to his daughter, Albus asked, "Is that correct?" Sullen, Molly nodded. "Very well, I am going to remove the charm and I do not want either of you to yell or shout, is that clear?" He waited until both had nodded before ending the spell.

"Mother, Father, I know I'm in trouble, but you can't let Uncle Appo punish Arthur without consulting either of you," Molly pleaded, looking from one to the other.

Minerva opened her mouth to reply, but Albus stopped her. "I will speak with Mr. Pringle in the morning, Molly. I do not want to hear another word about it until I do, understood?"

"Yes, Father," Molly replied, looking deflated.

Minerva looked at Albus, who nodded. "You, young lady, are still in trouble. For now, I want you to go straight back to your dorm room and stay there. We will talk about your punishment after Albus has spoken to Mr. Pringle. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Mother," Molly sighed.

Albus leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Go on, Molly. I'll make sure Mr. Pringle doesn't do something like this again."

"Thank you, Father." Molly smiled and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back for a moment before letting her go over to Minerva. "I'm sorry, Mother."

Minerva gazed sternly at her daughter for a few moments before smiling and pulling her into a hug. "I would have done the same if it had been your father and I."

"I know, Mother." Molly smiled and left the room.

Minerva waited until the door to the sitting room closed before turning to Albus. "That was a rotten trick."

"Nothing else was working, my dear," Albus replied as he drew Minerva into his arms.

Minerva laughed softly, resting her head on his shoulder. "She's so stubborn."

"She gets it from her mother," Albus commented with a smile, his eyes twinkling.

Minerva pulled away, glaring at him. "She does not!"

"Oh, yes, she does," Albus sat down and grabbed her hand, gently tugging until she sat down on the bed beside him.

Minerva smiled. "And you wouldn't have me any other way, would you?"

"No, I wouldn't," he agreed, tilting her face up to kiss her. She smiled as she kissed him back.

While all of this business of Molly and her boyfriend was going on, Quentin couldn't help feeling more than a little left out. He knew that his parents loved him just as much as they loved Molly, but it seemed that Molly got far more attention than he did. Since his first years at Hogwarts, Quentin had discovered that he had a propensity for performing feats of illusionary trickery. In other words, he was a world-class practical jokester. For him, all the world was a playground; all he needed were the materials to make it happen and presto: sweet chaos. With the help of Peeves, he once tipped all of the bowl-shaped lanterns in the Great Hall at the same time. He and Peeves both watched gleefully as the floor was quickly covered with Greek fire. The floor burned for days and Peeves was more than happy to take the blame for anything that young Mister McGonagall had in mind. For Peeves, it was more than enough compensation to participate and have a brilliant trick come off right.

Albus and Minerva tried desperately to convince their son that his tricks were more than harmless fun. They were destructive to school property. Though Quentin often promised his parents that he would stop his antics, there were more times than not, two fingers crossed behind his back. Pranks were his life. There was no turning back.

From then until graduation, Quentin Lancelot McGonagall would be remembered at Hogwarts as the record-holder for the most practical jokes performed in one school year. He wouldn't find out until year later, after graduation, but the only one in Hogwarts history who had performed more was his own mother.

Years passed. Quentin grew out of his stubborn need to play tricks, Molly grew out of her dramatic temper tantrums, and Albus and Minerva sat tearfully by as their only children graduated from Hogwarts. As if they were predestined by faith, Molly married the boy she was caught with so many years ago.

Molly and her new husband were soon parents themselves, for Molly gave birth to her first-born son, Bill a year after graduation. Quentin was decidedly ready to continue his education, and soon enrolled in auror training school. Albus rolled his eyes at this while Minerva shook her head and covered her eyes with one hand. Those poor instructors of that school. They weren't going to know what hit them when Quentin McGonagall got done with them.


	6. Blossoms on the Family Tree

Moments Together: Blossoms on the Family Tree

Now that the Molly and Quentin had graduated and had begun new lives as adults, life for Albus and Minerva seemed to relax into unhurried simplicity. They taught their classes and played the roles of head administrators; they played chess each night and took the quiet time before the fire to speak of their children and new grandchildren. Being a grandmother was something that Minerva was still adjusting to. The title made her feel old, but she got over it quickly when Molly brought Bill and now little Charlie over to see them. She loved to watch from a distance as Albus played with his grandsons, seeing that even in his old age his inner child had not aged a day.

This night found Minerva and Albus exceptionally content. Albus couldn't seem to suppress a chuckle as he moved his chess pieces about the board. He glanced up at the wall of their joint study and smiled at the cherubic pictures of their children and the recently added portraits of Bill and Charlie. The youngest Weasley, baby Percy, was no more than three months old, but Molly and Arthur had yet to have a portrait made of the infant. The proud grandparents were well aware that their daughter was again expecting, but Albus had yet to hear what it is that his daughter was carrying. He secretly hoped it was a girl. He shifted his cerulean gaze to Minerva, his bride, whose beauty in his opinion had not faded with the fullness of her years but had grown. She still moved with the same nimble, feline grace that had swept him off his feet when they met. Her eyes shined with pride when she held her grandchildren and Albus was utterly moved to tears. He was so glad he had married her. She looked up from moving one of her knights, saw him looking at her and blushed as she smiled. Albus laughed aloud this time.

"My love, are you purring?" Albus chuckled.

"I got an owl from Molly and Arthur today, Albus," Minerva replied, waiting for Albus to make his next move.

"How are they faring?" Albus asked with a grin. Albus could feel the excitement in her voice as she replied.

"They're having twins, Albus! Twins!" Minerva burst, unable to keep her voice at a respectable, ladylike level. Albus dropped the chess piece and it cried out in pain as it hit the board with a hard click.

"T--twins?" Albus stammered. As he got over the shock, his eyes glinted in the firelight. Minerva reached across the side of the table and covered his hand with hers.

"Isn't it wonderful, Albus? Two more grandchildren!" Minerva cried. As uncharacteristic as it was for Minerva to get so excited, Albus was willing to disregard it tonight. Twins didn't run in either of their families, so to have this set in the family now meant that there would be more twins down the road in further generations of their ever-spreading family tree.

Albus was so preoccupied with the thought of his new grandchildren that he made a mistake in his game play and Minerva won easily.

"Albus Dumbledore I have not beaten you in three years!" Minerva teased.

"I had not been informed that I was to be the grandfather of twins in those three years, Minerva McGonagall!" he replied good naturedly. The two stood and stretched, extinguished the fire, and prepared for bed. The news had been an excellent way to end the day.

The proud grandparents crept carefully into their king-sized four poster bed and snuggled down into the warmth of the thick quilts and the softness of the opulent pillows. Albus rolled onto his side and pulled Minerva into his arms, kissing her neck and the shell-like contour of her ear. Softly, Minerva giggled. "That tickles!" she whispered happily.

"Anything to hear you laugh, my darling," Albus replied, hugging her tight.

"Oh, Albus, I love you," Minerva murmured as her eyelids drooped shut.

"I love you too, my dear. I always will," Albus whispered, kissing Minerva one more time before sleep claimed him as well.

While his sister was happily expecting her fourth and fifth children, Quentin remained a bachelor. Quentin had been rather leery of ending his bachelorhood because of the risks that came with being an Auror, not to mention that he rather enjoyed the single life. Recently, however, he'd grown restless and wasn't quite sure what to make of it. In an attempt to figure it out, he decided to speak with Alastor, who'd acted as a mentor to Quentin when the younger man had first become an Auror and was now someone Quentin could turn to when he didn't feel like he could speak with Albus.

At any rate, the two stopped in the Leaky Cauldron for a drink so the noise and activity would ensure privacy, though Quentin still cast an anti-Eavesdropping charm around their table. "What did you want to speak to me about, Quentin?"

"I think there's something wrong with me, Uncle Al," Quentin replied, his green eyes uncharacteristically serious. "I've always been single and liked it that way, but lately, I've felt restless."

Alastor's brown eyes sharpened. "In what ways?"

"I hate going home to my flat and stay out as late as possible, either by staying late at 'the office' or stopping at a pub," Quentin explained. "My flat just seems too empty, too quiet." Alastor considered this for a long moment before beginning to quietly laugh. Quentin grew indignant. "This isn't a prank we're discussing, Uncle Al."

Alastor held up a hand to forestall further blustering from his adopted nephew. "I apologize Quentin. You've described the very situation I found myself in after your father defeated Grindelwald."

"Shh." Quentin glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "No one's supposed to know who my father is."

Alastor nodded approvingly of the younger man's caution. "After Grindelwald had been defeated, I found myself at loose ends. I'd concentrated on the fight against him so much that I hadn't noticed how lonely I was. Then, I wasn't required to work late hours and realized that I hated going home to a quiet, empty flat every night. I hated sleeping in a big, cold bed at night. More than once, I fell asleep on my couch, fully-clothed instead of in my bed."

Quentin nodded, understanding what his mentor was saying. "So, what did you do?"

"I married your Aunt Poppy," Alastor stated simply.

Quentin stared at the older moment, surprised. As he digested this information, he mused, "Basically, you're saying I need to find someone to marry?"

"Someone who's fully aware of what you're being an Auror entails and who accepts that there may come a day when you won't come home." Alastor's face and voice were serious, brown eyes boring into Quentin's green ones. "Someone who will hold you and comfort you after some of the horrors you'll see, someone you can lean on."

Quentin was thoughtful, "Someone like Mum or Aunt Poppy?"

"Well, basically, yes," Alastor answered with a chuckle. "Marriage is a partnership, Quentin: sometimes it's an equal partnership, like your parents', sometimes it's not. It's up to you which one you'll have."

Quentin gave the older man a wry smile. "I'll have to find someone daft enough to marry me first."

"You'll find her, Quentin, trust me."

"Oy, McGonagall! Get your arse over here!" Quentin rolled his eyes. Lauren Strom was good at being an Auror, but her people skills could use some work. Her small size--the top of her head barely reached the middle of his chest--often caused her opponents to underestimate her, which gave her an advantage some of the men, especially taller ones like Quentin, would never have. Her curly red hair, light freckles, and hazel eyes framed by a pair of spectacles added to the impression that she was helpless, but she was actually one of the best duelists among the Aurors. "NOW, McGonagall!"

He meandered his way to her cubicle, lounging in the doorway. With an exaggerated yawn, he asked, "What's up, Storm?"

"Strom, git," Lauren growled, glaring at him. She hated when people got her last name wrong. While he waited for her to answer his question, Quentin looked her over, absently noting that she seemed her hair was a bit messy, her spectacles had slid to the end of her nose, and her face was a bit flushed. Her voice snapped him out of his musings, "Something personal's come up and I need you to cover for me, McGonagall."

He grinned roguishly. He'd always known that Lauren was attractive, but the change in her appearance today made her appear even more so and he decided to use the situation to his advantage, "Sure, but--" she'd relaxed a little, but had tensed once more "--only if you'll go out to dinner with me." As he'd spoken, he'd closed the distance between them until he was deliberately invading her personal space. She looked up at him for a moment, smiled, and then poured her cup of hot tea all over his chest, causing him to step back and yank off his shirt before he could be permanently injured. "Bloody hell, woman! What are you trying to do, kill me?"

When no answer was forthcoming, he looked up from casting a cleaning charm on his shirt to see Lauren's hazel eyes riveted to his now-bare chest. Smirking, he reached out and tipped her chin up so her eyes met him. "Tonight? Six?" Slowly, she nodded, not taking her eyes from his. Grinning, he kissed her lightly. "Go ahead and take care of your personal business. I'll cover for you."

Without a word, Lauren grabbed her cloak and left. Chuckling, Quentin put his shirt back on and sauntered to his own cubicle. He was feeling better than he had in weeks. Maybe Alastor's advice had some merit to it.

That date led to a change in Quentin and Lauren's relationship on the whole. They still tended to argue, but there was a playful, bantering tone to it. Now that they weren't at each other's throats, they proved to work well together, their strengths and weaknesses complimenting each other. Even before they'd gotten past their differences, they'd had to work together occasionally, although their tendency to snipe and snarl at each other had led to those occasions being few and far between. More and more often, Quentin and Lauren were partnered together and there were times when they _had_ to share body heat or catch hypothermia.

In a way, the missions they went on together served as their courtship. With the increasing danger from Voldemort, they spent most of their time out in the field, or doing research. During the long periods of boredom out in the field, they talked to pass the time. This increased their closeness and created a bond between them that would prove very useful as Voldemort's reign dragged on.

One cold night, they were tracking the movements of a possible Voldemort supporter and enjoying each other's body heat. "Quentin?"

"Yeah, Lauren?" he responded, his eyes on the house they were watching.

She shifted and he became very aware of her body beside his. "Why in the world did you ask me out in the first place?" Surprised by her question, he glanced down at her. "I mean, we never really got along, there was no reason you could expect me to say yes to going out with you."

"Truth be told, I'm not entirely certain what it was, but when I looked at you that day, you were a completely different person. My knees went to jelly and if you hadn't poured that tea on me..." Quentin replied, pausing as Lauren winced, remembering the brash action, "I might have fainted dead away. I'd never seen anyone so all together beautiful in my life."

Lauren's face turned a rather fetching shade of red, causing Quentin to laugh quietly. Rolling her eyes and pretending to be offended, Lauren turned back to the house they were watching. "You sure didn't act like your knees were jelly or about to faint."

"It was all an act," he assured her, kissing her cheek. "I had to do something to hide it. Would have ruined my reputation, you know."

Just as she raised her hand to lightly smack his shoulder, activity at the house they'd been watching drew their attention. In less than a second, they were all business.

As with any other couple, Quentin and Lauren had to meet each other's parents. Lauren's parents were a little skeptical at first, given how they two had been at each other at first. After ten minutes of watching the two interact, though, their worries were laid to rest and, by the end of the visit, they decided he would make a fine husband for Lauren.

Then it was time for Lauren to meet Quentin's parents. She was understandably nervous about it. After Quentin knocked on the door, Lauren smoothed non-existent wrinkles out of the deep green robes she wore, patted her hair to make sure it was fine, adjusted her spectacles on her nose, and tapped her foot. Then Quentin caught her hand in his, drawing her attention to him. Realizing he'd been watching her, she laughed self-consciously. "I'm sorry, Quentin, am I annoying you?"

"Not at all," he replied, raising her hand to his lips. "You don't need to be worried. They'll love you, I'm sure of it."

Lauren opened her mouth to retort, but the door opened at the same time and they turned to see Minerva McGonagall in deep burgundy robes watching them. Her black hair was pulled back into a French twist and there was a bemused smile on her face. "Hello, Quentin."

"Hi, Mum," Quentin replied, stepping forward to hug her warmly. Lauren's jaw dropped. _Minerva_ McGonagall was Quentin's mother? She'd thought the Transfiguration professor was his aunt or something. "Lauren?"

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Lauren stepped up beside Quentin. "Hello, Professor--"

"No, Lauren, I'm not your professor anymore." Minerva's voice was softer, warmer, with a stronger burr to it. "Please call me Minerva."

Lauren nodded, but couldn't seem to find her voice now, feeling a little off-balance. "Lauren?" She looked at Quentin. "I can guarantee that Mum won't take house points or put you in detention."

"If I remember correctly, you were the one who always lost house points and got put in detention," Lauren retorted archly, relieved that Quentin had understood why she was nervous.

He laughed as they entered the homey cottage, where a house-elf took their cloaks. "Touché." He then looked at Minerva. "Mum, where's Dad?"

"He'll be down in a minute, Quentin," Minerva replied as she gestured for the younger couple to have a seat. "He wanted to finish up some paperwork."

A voice from the doorway drew the three around and Lauren's jaw dropped again. "No, I'm here now, my dear."

"Dad!" Quentin stood and strode over to embrace none other than Albus Dumbledore himself.

_What am I getting myself into? I can't have these two for in-laws!_ Lauren was beginning to panic when a touch on her shoulder brought her attention around to Minerva. Quietly, the older woman told her, "We're human beings, Lauren. Yes, Albus is powerful. Yes, I am a professor at Hogwarts. Underneath, however, we are just as human as you and Quentin."

"Thank you, Minerva," Lauren answered with a nod of understanding, feeling the panic begin to fade.

Minerva nodded back just as Quentin and Albus came over. "No kiss from my wife?"

"A kiss is exactly why you were late to begin with, Albus," Minerva countered, though she was smiling as she stepped into her husband's embrace.

As Lauren watched, she relaxed even further. They reminded her of her own parents. Quentin's voice in her ear startled her. "Amazing how mushy and disgusting they can get, isn't it?"

Lauren tried desperately to hold back her giggles, but she couldn't help it. The way he said it and the look on his face was just too funny. "Quentin, what are we going to do with you?"

"Feed me, shelter me, and love me?" Quentin offered hopefully.

"Seventeen years of that is quite enough for us," Albus told his son. "You'll have to find someone else to do that." Lauren was almost sure she heard Quentin mutter something about having already found someone, but Albus was speaking to _her_ now! "Lauren Strom, it's a pleasure to see you again."

She extended her hand, expecting him to shake it, but Albus kissed the back instead. "Thank you, er, what should I call you?"

"Albus will be fine," he assured her, his bright blue eyes twinkling. "Shall we go eat?"


End file.
